


feet first, don't fall (we'll be running again)

by BittersweetEnvy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Murphy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, cute gay boys, poor baby murphy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BittersweetEnvy/pseuds/BittersweetEnvy
Summary: With a mumbled curse, he ruffled his hair and steadied his balance before treading down the hallway to try to find the bathroom. He was almost there when he heard it."'ell," came the slurred voice. Bellamy turned.It was Murphy.





	

  
If there was one thing Bellamy was sure of, it was that Johnathan Murphy had never drank alcohol his entire life.

He asked Murphy multiple times why he never ordered anything when everyone went out together– but the only response Bellamy received was a shrug and a sip of his water.

He would recently learn why, but it would take a night at a bar and recovering over the ridiculous hangover he would have when he awoke.

 

* * *

 

When he did awake, it wasn't the light streaming through windows, or his alarm telling him to haul ass– it was the loud, painful groan that echoed throughout the apartment. Bellamy thought he had just imagined it at first, his still buzzed head just trying to convince him to get up, but he heard it again, loud and painful and ripping through the silence.

His reluctant eyes finally snapped open, his head pounding as he tried to rip the sheets off him, sending him tumbling off the side of the bed and onto the floor. With a grunt of pain, Bellamy dragged himself off the ground.

He glanced at his alarm clock that flashed a red 3:15 AM. With a mumbled curse, he ruffled his hair and steadied his balance before treading down the hallway to try to find the bathroom. He was almost there when he heard it.

"'ell," came the slurred voice. Bellamy turned.

It was Murphy, slouched against the tile wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, small hiccups and sobs racking throughout his body. Tears prickled his eyes, daring to spill and roll down his cheeks as soon as their gazes met. Bellamy let out a pained noise and immediately jumped to Murphy's side on the bathroom floor.

"Shit, Murph," he cursed, gently grabbing the sides his boyfriend's face and resting Murphy's head in the crook of his neck. This erupted a silent muffled cry from the boy, as he slowly uncurled from his fetal position.

Bellamy took the opportunity to grab Murphy by the waist and pull him onto his lap. He let out another heart wrenching sob, so Bellamy hugged him tighter and ran his fingers through the long hair soothingly. He didn't hesitate to grab Murphy's neck and pull him back to pepper his face with gentle kisses.

"Murph, what happened?" He asked when he pulled away, glancing around at the two empty bottles of alcohol laying on the floor beside them. He immediately turned his attention back towards the boy clinging onto him to dear life.

Murphy let out a sniffle and shook his head so fast, Bellamy had to grab the side of his face lightly to steady him. "I don' wanna," he slurred again, his finger's shaking as they clutched the back of his tee shirt.

Bellamy rubbed the back of Murphy's head slowly. "Please, John. Tell me what's wrong."

Murphy seemed to calm after hearing his name, burying his face further into Bellamy's shoulder, who welcomed it, and waited. "My ma.'"

Confusion crossed his face. Taken back, Bellamy pulled away a bit from him. "What about your mom, John?"

Murphy sniffles. "I don' wanna'be like my mom, Bell," he says, and mumbles a quiet mantra of "Bell" over and over again until his name slurs together.

It only takes a minute for Bellamy for finally get it. He see's the sickness still in the toilet and the fear on Murphy's face, and a similar one probably on his own. With one swoop, he slips his arm under Murphy's legs, the other clutching his shoulder, holding him tight against his chest as he lift's him easily into the air.

Murphy curls in on himself again, and Bellamy realizes this is the first time he's ever seen him so vulnerable, being curled against Bellamy like a child as he carry's him effortlessly back into the bedroom.

He sets him carefully back onto his lap as he sits on the bed with him. It isn't different from before, except that they're more comfortable, and Bellamy doesn't even know if it helped at all.

He gets his answer when Murphy sinks into the bed, relaxing his muscles as he hold's his boyfriend for support.

Bellamy doesn't know how long they sit there, Murphy still in his drunken state, mumbling about medicine and the flu, with a hand clutching his own, the other rubbing his brown hair softly. Eventually, Murphy's breathing slows to normal, and Bellamy tucks some of his hair behind his ear, kissing it lightly. This earns him a small giggle, and his heart swells as he sighs with relief.

It might've just been the alcohol, but his heart fills with pride anyway. He sighs again, hesitantly speaking.

"Murph?" He asks,

"Mmm?" comes the response, content and buzzed.

"Why did you drink?" Bellamy asks slowly, carefully.

Murphy doesn't seem affected by it, and he's thankful for that. But he just shrugs lazily, intertwining their fingers.

"The noise," he clarifies, "was too loud."

That confuses him. "Noise?"

Murphy raises his other hand and points to his head, tapping it. "Too loud," he repeats.

Bellamy's face fills with sadness. He wants to cry, but he holds the tears for another time, and instead he tightens the hold on Murphy's hand. "I'm so sorry, baby."

Murphy shrugs again. "S'alright, Bell."

Bellamy shakes his head. "No, it's not," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "We're both fucked up and I don't know how to fix it."

This immediately catches Murphy's attention, who sits up and places his knee's on either side of Bellamy, planting himself on his lap. Murphy looks so serious right now, that Bellamy wonders if it's possible that he's already sober. He grabs his own face and stares at him intensely.

"We'll fix it. 'Cause I love you, Bell." Murphy pauses before snorting and laughing. "Now we're gay and cliché."

Bellamy sets his hands on Murphy's waist, smoothing his hipbone with his thumbs as he smiles. "Who cares? Cliché sounds fucking great." And then Bellamy kisses him.

The brunette automatically melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck and tugging on Bellamy's black curls. It's slow and gentle and sickly sweet. He sweeps his tongue across Murphy's lip, who allows his tongue to dominate his own. He tastes like and alcohol Bellamy can't place, and he doesn't particularly mind at the moment.

He momentarily forget's that they have to breathe, and they break apart reluctantly. Murphy's cheeks are flushed and red, and Bellamy laughs as he pulls him in for another kiss. He stops after a few, smirking against his boyfriend's lips.

"So you love me, huh?"

Murphy laughs despite the angry face he tries to pull. "Fuck you."

Bellamy pecks him again. "Maybe later. You're still drunk, and it's four in the morning."

He blushes and pouts, "your loss," shrugging his shoulders and pulling himself off of Bellamy's lap. He lays down, resting his head where he was sat before, sighing contently.

Bellamy does the same, smiling to himself, whispering. "Just don't try and throw up on the bed, okay?"

Murphy giggles, already half asleep on his lap. "I hate you, Bellamy Blake." he slurs, slipping into unconsciousness.

He's already gone, but Bellamy still says aloud, "I love you too, John Murphy."

And they slip away in dream together.

**Author's Note:**

> trying to get out of my writers block with my gay children;; my first 100 fic, be kind ❤


End file.
